Actually, Friday wasn't. Friday was extremely chill. Those of us at Aprile woke up just early enough to go to a local farmer's market by the train station, where we stocked up on fresh fruits, veggies and cheeses. That was a lot of fun, trying to speak Italian with the vendors and haggle the prices down (the prices were already very good to begin with in most cases, but I still managed to get 2 Euro off a basket of strawberries and bunch of bananas).
After that, we went to a real grocery store to buy bread, meat, Nutella, milk, and the other things we couldn't find at the market. We hauled all of this out to the nearest piazza and stopped for lunch at Il Ghibellini.
Bethany and I split a very delicious ham pizza, while Erika (the vegetarian) opted for mushrooms and artichokes. We had a great time eating and relaxing, then got to the hardest part of any restaurant excursion in Firenze: how to pay the bill.
We sat for a good half hour waiting for a waiter to come past and give us our bill. No one came. We got up and walked up to the front of the restaurant to see if there was a register for us to pay at. There wasn't. So we sat and waited, worrying about the chicken we picked up at the grocery store and looking around at the other customers to see what they did (when in doubt, imitate the locals). Unfortunately, the only other patrons at this time (it was a little early for Italian lunch) were a couple making out in the corner and two guys who had just sat down and hadn't even ordered drinks yet.
We compensated by wandering around until someone came and asked if we needed help.
Fifth Lesson Learned: When in doubt, look cute and clueless. It makes up for the fact that you're an ignorant American.
The waiter told us that in Italy, people usually like to relax after a meal and he didn't want to seem rude by rushing us with a bill. Makes sense. But we're Americans. We like to get in, get out, get going. No one understands that in this country. (Wait for the Nicolo and Franco story later in this post; and a word of warning right now, this post is going to be LONG because a lot happened this weekend.)
The rest of Friday was mostly uneventful. We finally paid our bill and made it home, dragging armfuls of groceries the last twenty or twenty-five minutes of the walk. After that, we were kind of worn out, so we took naps, then spent the evening playing cards and drinking wine. (We were also too full from lunch to eat a real dinner, so instead I made a killer banana and Nutella panini.)
It took about an hour to get to Pisa, and with the gorgeous Italian countryside all around us and plenty of "Harry Potter" quotes on train travel to throw around, it was a very fast hour.
It didn't occur to any of us to figure out where the Leaning Tower of Pisa actually is until we walked outside the train station and found ourselves in a piazza in a legitimate city. We had all anticipated stepping out into a field and walking straight to the Tower. There weren't even any signs for it. So we went back in the station, checked the map and headed off down what we hoped would be the correct street.
There were actually a lot of streets between the station and the Tower, but we got to enjoy the quaint houses and shops of Pisa as we followed a vague path.
Finally, we got to a point where we turned a corner and suddenly, there it was.
I think it was Yelena who first decided she was famished upon seeing the Tower, and we all realized we were too. So I took the above photo and we turned right around to go back for food at the ristorante we had just passed a few hundred yards behind us.
We lucked out by having a really sunny day in the 60's, so we ate outside on the street/patio and feasted on margherita pizza and bruschetta.
Full of carbs and tomatoes, we headed back to the Tower, where we spent three hours trying to take the perfect picture with all the other tourists.
The weather was perfect and we had nowhere else to be, so we figured we would take all the time we needed to get our pictures exactly as we wanted them, and we did.
We spent our last hour or two before sunset wandering around Pisa. There are actually several really cool old buildings in La Piazza dei Miracoli (Field of Miracles: the field the Tower sits in), so we walked around them and took some more pictures of the architecture.
We wanted to visit Camposanto Cemetery on the edge of the field because it's supposed to be another popular tourist attraction, but we got there at closing time and couldn't get in.
After that, we called it quits and made our way back to the train station for our trip home.
Erika, Bethany and I made it back to our apartment shortly before 8 p.m. and were ready for dinner at this point. As I was preparing the ingredients for a grilled cheese and the other girls were deciding on their own dinners, we heard a knock on the door.
I opened it, and who should it be, but our favorite neighbor Nicolo and another equally attractive young Italian whom Nicolo introduced as his best friend Franco.
As it turned out, Franco was visiting Nik for the weekend and they hoped we would join them for dinner at 9, if that was not too late for us. I turned to block the stove where I had just set a sandwich to grill, and we - trying to remain as calm and collected as possible - accepted their invitation.
After the boys left and we closed the door, it took about ten minutes of the three of us jumping up and down and suppressing squeals and giggles to get us to relax enough to focus on getting ready. We got a bottle of wine from a store on our street (hoping it would be suitable since none of us really had any idea what we were looking for) and changed out of our Pisa clothes just in time for the boys to knock on our door at 9 sharp to inform us dinner was ready when we were.
And dinner was amazing. Nik and Franco had made us steak, roasted chicken and potatoes and salad (American foods for the Americans) and it was all fantastic. We spent most of dinner going back and forth asking questions: Nik and Franco about American culture and the girls and I asking about Italian culture. Nicolo speaks very good English, but Franco hardly speaks any English at all, so Nik had to keep translating what we said. It made all of our stories that much funnier because one of us would say something and everyone but Franco would laugh (he just sat there looking puzzled). Then Nik would translate for Franco and Franco would laugh too, which set the rest of us off again. When we ran out of questions, we began talking about our experiences in Italy so far and the differences between Kent and Firenze (including the way ambulance and cop sirens sound different in Italy than in the U.S., which we had to go to YouTube to prove to the guys).
All of our stories seemed better in Italian as Nik acted out what we told him for Franco's benefit, and Franco, equally dramatic, would respond with more sweeping gestures.
Once everyone had eaten more than his or her fill, Nik and Franco cleared the table, we pushed all the furniture in Nik's apartment aside to make room for dancing in the little apartment. Nik asked for our preferences, but we wanted him to choose. The compromise was Coldplay and Dubstep, an interesting combination, but one all five of us really enjoyed. It cracked me up that even Franco, with his lack of English, knew all the English words to the songs.
It was great making some Italian friends (and having a super delicious, free meal) and when the three of us finally got to bed, we were all exhausted from such a full day.
Naturally, we slept in late Sunday. Some of the other girls were coming over after lunch to meet before walking to Piazza Michelangelo (an outlook over Firenze), so we waited around for them.
As we were waiting, Nicolo and Franco knocked on the door again to ask about our plans for the day. The girls arrived while we were talking to the boys, so naturally the boys invited our whole group over for espresso...
While we were talking, we shared our plans to head to Michelangelo, and Nicolo and Franco volunteered to be our escorts.
It ended up taking longer than it should have for all of us to get across the Arno and up that hill because Yelena stopped for a sandwich, Maria for shoes and Franco for cigarettes. Finally, we made it and realized it was definitely worth the intense climb up the super steep hill.
We stood up there until just after sunset, staring out over the entirety of Firenze. It was another one of those moments here that actually takes your breath away, and it was a perfect almost ending to the weekend as the six of us sat in silence (with the exception of a wonderfully mellow singer entertaining guests on the main steps) and watched the sun sink over the hills.
When it was finally getting dark, Bethany and walked home with the guys, while I went to the supermercado to pick up pasta for dinner at Lydia's apartment.
Yelena and Lydia made excellent spaghetti with chicken, onions and peppers. Eight of us ate and recapped the weekend, then cleared the table for another game of Pit. We called it quits around 8 and I headed back to my apartment to do the homework I'd been putting off since Thursday.
Unfortunately, I just missed Franco leaving to head back to his home in Cortona, but Bethany and Erika passed on the message for me that he said good-bye.
It's rough heading back to class today after such a perfect weekend, but it's only another week until Roma. I'm sure this was only the first of many Italian weekends to remember.
We compensated by wandering around until someone came and asked if we needed help.
Fifth Lesson Learned: When in doubt, look cute and clueless. It makes up for the fact that you're an ignorant American.
The waiter told us that in Italy, people usually like to relax after a meal and he didn't want to seem rude by rushing us with a bill. Makes sense. But we're Americans. We like to get in, get out, get going. No one understands that in this country. (Wait for the Nicolo and Franco story later in this post; and a word of warning right now, this post is going to be LONG because a lot happened this weekend.)
The rest of Friday was mostly uneventful. We finally paid our bill and made it home, dragging armfuls of groceries the last twenty or twenty-five minutes of the walk. After that, we were kind of worn out, so we took naps, then spent the evening playing cards and drinking wine. (We were also too full from lunch to eat a real dinner, so instead I made a killer banana and Nutella panini.)
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| Thank you, Bobby Flay. |
Saturday. The best day of the weekend. Kevin and Glenn picked the three of us up at our apartment and we all walked to the train station to meet the rest of the group for an 11 a.m. train to Pisa.
We figured out how to swipe our bank cards to get into an ATM booth and how to buy the correct tickets from the self-serve ticket machine (which spoke in an odd combination of broken English and female robot: "Peek your teekets in de lowair right"), and made it safely onto the proper train with time to spare.
It took about an hour to get to Pisa, and with the gorgeous Italian countryside all around us and plenty of "Harry Potter" quotes on train travel to throw around, it was a very fast hour.
It didn't occur to any of us to figure out where the Leaning Tower of Pisa actually is until we walked outside the train station and found ourselves in a piazza in a legitimate city. We had all anticipated stepping out into a field and walking straight to the Tower. There weren't even any signs for it. So we went back in the station, checked the map and headed off down what we hoped would be the correct street.
There were actually a lot of streets between the station and the Tower, but we got to enjoy the quaint houses and shops of Pisa as we followed a vague path.
Finally, we got to a point where we turned a corner and suddenly, there it was.
 |
| We should have known to follow the smell of America. |
We lucked out by having a really sunny day in the 60's, so we ate outside on the street/patio and feasted on margherita pizza and bruschetta.
 |
| Lydia and me looking attractive. |
 |
| A little to the left... |
We wanted to visit Camposanto Cemetery on the edge of the field because it's supposed to be another popular tourist attraction, but we got there at closing time and couldn't get in.
After that, we called it quits and made our way back to the train station for our trip home.
Erika, Bethany and I made it back to our apartment shortly before 8 p.m. and were ready for dinner at this point. As I was preparing the ingredients for a grilled cheese and the other girls were deciding on their own dinners, we heard a knock on the door.
I opened it, and who should it be, but our favorite neighbor Nicolo and another equally attractive young Italian whom Nicolo introduced as his best friend Franco.
As it turned out, Franco was visiting Nik for the weekend and they hoped we would join them for dinner at 9, if that was not too late for us. I turned to block the stove where I had just set a sandwich to grill, and we - trying to remain as calm and collected as possible - accepted their invitation.
After the boys left and we closed the door, it took about ten minutes of the three of us jumping up and down and suppressing squeals and giggles to get us to relax enough to focus on getting ready. We got a bottle of wine from a store on our street (hoping it would be suitable since none of us really had any idea what we were looking for) and changed out of our Pisa clothes just in time for the boys to knock on our door at 9 sharp to inform us dinner was ready when we were.
And dinner was amazing. Nik and Franco had made us steak, roasted chicken and potatoes and salad (American foods for the Americans) and it was all fantastic. We spent most of dinner going back and forth asking questions: Nik and Franco about American culture and the girls and I asking about Italian culture. Nicolo speaks very good English, but Franco hardly speaks any English at all, so Nik had to keep translating what we said. It made all of our stories that much funnier because one of us would say something and everyone but Franco would laugh (he just sat there looking puzzled). Then Nik would translate for Franco and Franco would laugh too, which set the rest of us off again. When we ran out of questions, we began talking about our experiences in Italy so far and the differences between Kent and Firenze (including the way ambulance and cop sirens sound different in Italy than in the U.S., which we had to go to YouTube to prove to the guys).
All of our stories seemed better in Italian as Nik acted out what we told him for Franco's benefit, and Franco, equally dramatic, would respond with more sweeping gestures.
Once everyone had eaten more than his or her fill, Nik and Franco cleared the table, we pushed all the furniture in Nik's apartment aside to make room for dancing in the little apartment. Nik asked for our preferences, but we wanted him to choose. The compromise was Coldplay and Dubstep, an interesting combination, but one all five of us really enjoyed. It cracked me up that even Franco, with his lack of English, knew all the English words to the songs.
It was great making some Italian friends (and having a super delicious, free meal) and when the three of us finally got to bed, we were all exhausted from such a full day.
Naturally, we slept in late Sunday. Some of the other girls were coming over after lunch to meet before walking to Piazza Michelangelo (an outlook over Firenze), so we waited around for them.
As we were waiting, Nicolo and Franco knocked on the door again to ask about our plans for the day. The girls arrived while we were talking to the boys, so naturally the boys invited our whole group over for espresso...
While we were talking, we shared our plans to head to Michelangelo, and Nicolo and Franco volunteered to be our escorts.
It ended up taking longer than it should have for all of us to get across the Arno and up that hill because Yelena stopped for a sandwich, Maria for shoes and Franco for cigarettes. Finally, we made it and realized it was definitely worth the intense climb up the super steep hill.
 |
| "Everything, Simba. Everything the light touches." |
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| Franco, Yelena, me, Lydia, Bethany, and Nicolo. |
Yelena and Lydia made excellent spaghetti with chicken, onions and peppers. Eight of us ate and recapped the weekend, then cleared the table for another game of Pit. We called it quits around 8 and I headed back to my apartment to do the homework I'd been putting off since Thursday.
Unfortunately, I just missed Franco leaving to head back to his home in Cortona, but Bethany and Erika passed on the message for me that he said good-bye.
It's rough heading back to class today after such a perfect weekend, but it's only another week until Roma. I'm sure this was only the first of many Italian weekends to remember.
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